American comics: Damn it, I’m surrounded by those who worry about their fathers!.

Chapter 1141 The Story of the Burial Site and the Priest

The photo shows a young Peter.

Well, Dad hasn't gotten that much older now.

Machima muttered a curse in her mind.

Peter had an expression on his face that Machima had never seen before, and he was holding two boys in his arms.

On the left is a boy who looks only a few years old, with unusually mature and sharp eyes—it is young Azu.

On the right is a boy of the same age, wearing glasses, with a somewhat bewildered and uneasy expression—Clark Kent.

Standing in front of Peter was a little girl with black hair, about seven or eight years old.

The girl was wearing a simple dress, her head was down, and her face was not visible. She was tightly gripping Peter's trouser leg with one hand, and she looked very scared.

But this is not all.

The background of the photo is a raging fire.

Flames shot into the sky, and thick smoke billowed, engulfing the outline of a building.

Looking at the style of the building, Machima's eyes narrowed slightly.

This appears to be the chapel in Smallville, the old church with its iconic spire and stained-glass windows.

The title below the photo was somewhat illegible due to its age and yellowed paper, but she still managed to piece together the key information:

"Mysterious fire engulfs church, Peter Patrick rescues many from the flames!"

"The fire was unusual and the cause remains a mystery. The government has indicated it may have been a biological or chemical attack by terrorists."

The following text is blurry and illegible, making it impossible to read the specific report.

Machima stood there, holding the old newspaper, motionless for a long time.

The barn was silent, with only fine dust particles dancing in the sunlight.

This accidentally discovered old newspaper, like a key, unexpectedly opened a door to Peter Patrick's mysterious past.

Countless questions, like fungi growing in the dark, instantly filled Machima's mind.

This must be an old newspaper.

Why did the church catch fire, and what role did the father play inside?

She suddenly became interested in her father's past.

As she thought about it, Machima carefully folded the newspaper back to its original shape, put it back into the kraft paper package, then put the package back into the wooden box, closed the lid, and wiped away the traces she had left behind.

Then, as if nothing had happened, she quietly left the second floor of the barn.

Clark came to the farm, intending to discuss his recent thesis with Azu, but Azu wasn't there.

Just as he was about to leave, a clear voice called out to him.

“Brother Clark.”

Machima stood in the sunlight, her white dress spotless, looking up at him with her little face upturned.

"Machima?"

Clark stopped, bent down slightly to be at her eye level, and gave her a gentle smile. "What's wrong? Is there something you need?"

"I……"

Machima lowered her head somewhat shyly, gently rubbing a small pebble on the ground with her toe. "I want to know more about Dad's past. I know you and John have known Dad for a long time... Can you tell me some things?"

Clark: "."

What do you mean I've known my dad for a very long time?
This sounds a bit strange.

Despite his inner complaints, he had a good impression of this new, seemingly well-behaved "younger sister".

"of course can."

Clark readily agreed, "What do you want to know?"

Machima looked up and asked, "I...I heard that a long time ago, there was a big fire at the town's church? Dad was there, I think?"

Upon hearing Machima's words, Clark's expression instantly turned serious.

He nodded, his voice lowering slightly: "Yes, that was about ten years ago. That fire was terrible."

He paused, seemingly organizing his thoughts.

That wasn't an accident.

Clark's voice was heavy. "It was a priest from the church at the time... He went mad, and he found a burial site somewhere outside the town."

"The burial site?"

Machima looked surprised.

"Yes."

Clark nodded, his brow furrowed. "That land is said to possess some kind of...evil power that can awaken the dead...but not truly resurrect them. Machima, that's not a miracle from God. Those things that come back to life have no consciousness, no soul, only the instinct to attack the living, like...the walking dead."

Clark used a rather euphemistic word, but Machima immediately understood what he meant—zombies.

"That priest, he somehow used the power of that land to cause that disaster."

Clark seemed to see the scene from that day again: "He created the walkers and attacked people in the church during the harvest festival. At that time, Azu, Lana, and I... we were trapped in the church, the Godfather."

"...He rushed in despite the danger and rescued us. The fire was also caused by the chaos."

Clark's account was rather brief, omitting many details.

But Machima already understood what had happened: an evil land that could "resurrect" corpses, coupled with a mad priest, caused a zombie-infested disaster.

When Clark finished his narration, Machima seemed to recover from her shock and looked up to ask curiously, "That piece of land... that terrible burial ground, what happened to it? Is it still there?"

Clark didn't notice anything unusual at all; he simply assumed it was just a child's natural curiosity.

He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Don't worry, Machima. The Godfather bought that land later. It's just a little west of our farm. It used to be a swamp, but it dried up and became wasteland. There are high fences around it, so no one can get in. It's very safe."

"Oh, that's how it is."

Machima nodded, as if she had merely satisfied a trivial curiosity.

"Thank you for telling me this, Brother Clark."

She thanked him politely, then turned and left, her steps light and carefree, like a butterfly.

Clark watched her retreating figure, smiled, and turned to walk towards the living room, completely ignoring the little incident.

Night fell as expected, enveloping the town of Smallville.

The farm was quiet, broken only by the occasional chirping of insects and the sound of vehicles passing by on the distant highway.

Machima stood by the window of her room, gazing at the deep night outside, her eyes gleaming faintly in the darkness.

She heard muffled sobbing and a commotion coming from her neighbor's house in the distance.

Although it was a bit far from the farm, it was the closest house to the farm, so you could barely describe it as a neighbor.

With her superhuman senses, Machima saw her neighbor's little girl, Emily, crying her eyes out while hugging her white Persian cat, Snowball.

Unfortunately, the cat ran into the road at dusk and was run over by a passing car.

Upon seeing this, Machima's lips curled into a slight smile.

Then she left the room silently, like a ghost blending into the night, and went to the neighbor's yard.

Emily's father, Mr. Hansen, was holding a shovel, preparing to dig a hole in the backyard to bury "Snowball".

His face showed sadness and helplessness; after all, this was his daughter's beloved pet.

Just as he was about to dig the hole, he felt his consciousness momentarily lapse.

It was as if a gentle breeze had swept through his mind, carrying an undeniable conviction.

Hansen stopped digging a hole under the tree in the backyard, his eyes becoming somewhat empty and lost.

A thought took root in his mind like a seed: "I can't bury her here... Emily will always be sad... I need to bury her further away... to the west side of town... in that wasteland... yes... there..."

He seemed to have forgotten that the wasteland belonged to the Padrick family, and also forgot the fence that surrounded it.

Afterwards, Hansen blankly wrapped Snowball's cold little body in an old towel, picked up a shovel, started the family's pickup truck, and drove towards the west of town.

Machima followed at a distance, her figure appearing and disappearing in the interplay of moonlight and shadow, like a nocturnal animal chasing its prey.

Hansen drove in a daze to the edge of the wasteland surrounded by tall barbed wire.

He stopped the car, climbed over the fence with his bare hands—a feat that would be difficult for an ordinary person to overcome—and began digging in a patch of hard, barren land that looked no different from any other place.

He dug with great focus and effort, as if he were carrying out a sacred mission, completely unaware of the abnormality in his behavior.

Machima stood in the shadows outside the fence, silently observing everything. The cool night breeze ruffled her red hair, making her expression appear particularly cold in the moonlight.

Machima could sense that the ground beneath her feet was indeed emitting an extremely weak, yet extremely uncomfortable, magnetic field.

A distorted "vitality" that has accumulated countless deaths and resentments.

This is the cursed burial ground.

Mr. Hansen finally dug a shallow hole, carefully placed the towel bag containing the snowball inside, and then began to fill it with soil.

He kept repeating the mechanical motion until the soil was filled in, and even stomped on it with his feet.

After doing all this, he seemed to instantly wake up, looking blankly at the dark surroundings and his dirty hands, his face showing an expression of fear and confusion.

He had no recollection of why he came here or what he did.

As if he had seen a ghost, Hansen scrambled over the fence, started his car, and fled in panic from this cursed land shrouded in night.

Machima did not leave.

She waited until Mr. Hansen's headlights disappeared completely at the end of the road before slowly walking to the fence, her gaze piercing through the darkness and landing on the newly turned earth.

She could sense a faint energy, completely contrary to the normal state of life, seeping out from beneath the soil.

"Resurrection...?"

A cold and focused light gleamed in Machima's eyes.

She did nothing more, simply standing quietly in place, observing this strange place.

As night deepened, the wind over the wasteland seemed to carry a faint, ominous wail.

Meanwhile, Lex Group’s temporary command center, located on a relatively safe high ground on the outskirts of Riverwood, consisted of several large military tents and mobile equipment units.

Inside the tent, Lex Luther was examining footage recovered from the remaining surveillance cameras scattered throughout the town.

The screen displayed scenes of zombie attacks.

In the blurry images, the townspeople who were once neighbors, friends, and relatives have now transformed into monsters with bluish-gray skin, empty eyes, and drool dripping from their mouths.

The zombies pounced on the living people who had not yet mutated or hidden themselves, tearing and scratching with superhuman strength.

Screams, the sound of bones cracking, and chilling noises intertwined, pushing the viewer to their nerve limits.

Even someone as resolute as Lex felt his stomach churn at the sight.

He forced himself to keep reading, trying to find some useful information.

Just as he was watching the video, "Roar—!!!"

A furious roar suddenly rang out from outside.

It came from outside; it was definitely not the sound from the video.

Lex jumped up from his chair, pushed it aside, and rushed to the tent flap, pulling it open.

The sight before him left even this seasoned business tycoon and schemer, who had seen it all, momentarily stunned.

The area below, which had been brightly lit by searchlights, was now in complete chaos.

Like a flood bursting its banks, countless zombies surged out of the darkness deep within the town, charging toward the temporary command center.

"Fire! Fire at full power! Stop them!"

The security captain roared at the top of his lungs.

The guards beside them were spitting fire from their assault rifles.

Well-trained Lex Group militiamen formed a defensive line, their automatic weapons weaving a dense web of fire, bullets reaping the zombies charging at the forefront like scythes.

Zombies fell in droves, their heads blown off and limbs broken, but there were just too many of them.

Moreover, unless their brains are completely destroyed or their mobility is severely restricted, they can still crawl forward with their broken bodies even after being hit by multiple bullets.

Even more terrifying is that some zombies seem to have undergone a mutation during their charge, with their skin becoming tougher and even able to deflect some stray bullets.

The roars of the zombies merged together, forming a chilling sound wave.

"Damn it!"

Lex's face was ashen as he roared into the communicator, "Didn't the intelligence say the zombies were basically wiped out? Where did these come from?!"

"Sir, their numbers far exceed our estimates; we must evacuate immediately!"

The security captain shouted at him.

"All non-combat personnel, immediately board the vehicles according to the predetermined evacuation plan. Combat teams will provide alternating cover and retreat towards the evacuation point!"

Lex made the decision almost instantly.

As soon as he gave the order, the researchers and technicians rushed frantically toward the transport vehicle that was already in motion.

As the armed men unleashed a torrent of ammunition, they retreated in an orderly fashion. Those who fell behind were constantly pounced on by the advancing zombies, and their shrill screams were quickly drowned out by the sounds of tearing apart.

Surrounded by several bodyguards, Lex strode toward the helicopter parked in the center of the camp, its rotors already beginning to turn slowly.

He was clutching a combination lock box tightly in his hand, which contained a metal container taken from the abdomen of a zombie.

This is the biggest takeaway from his trip, and he must not let it slip away.

His bodyguard, "Wind Chaser," followed him to cover his retreat.

A few minutes later, the helicopter took off smoothly.

Lex breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the temporary base below gradually shrink.

Thankfully, it ended without any serious incident.

However, he was too happy too soon. Just as Lex was feeling fortunate, something unexpected happened!

The Wind Chaser, who had been closely guarding his rear, suddenly stiffened and then let out a painful groan.

Lex instinctively turned around to look.

The Wind Chaser's face was filled with pain.

The whites of the other person's eyes were visibly covered with dense, spiderweb-like blood vessels at a speed that instantly transformed them into a deep crimson.

The gentle, flowing air around the "Wind Chaser" instantly became violent and chaotic, emitting a hissing shriek.

"you……!"

Lex's heart nearly stopped beating, and a chill ran from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

"Roar--!"

The Wind Chaser opened its mouth and let out a roar, its teeth instantly becoming sharp.

The opponent's crimson eyes instantly locked onto Lex, who was standing right in front of him. Its hand, imbued with the superpower to manipulate air currents, whistled as it tore through the air, and instantly grabbed at Lex's neck.

Lex could even smell the stench emanating from the other person's breath.

Everything seemed to be slowed down; the distant roars of zombies, the intense gunfire nearby, and the roar of helicopter rotors all seemed to fade away in that moment.

For the first time, Lex felt the breath of death so acutely—cold, foul-smelling, and so close.

In that critical moment, the instinct for survival overcame everything.

He almost relied on muscle memory to parry the hard combination lock box upwards while desperately leaning his body backwards.

"clang!!!"

A crisp metallic clang rang out.

The Wind Chaser slammed its hand into the metal container, sending sparks flying.

The immense power and the swirling, violent airflow, though mostly blocked by the container, still sent Lex's arm numbing, his hand splitting open, and blood gushing out instantly.

He was thrown backward by the force and crashed heavily against the helicopter cabin wall.

The Wind Chaser, having missed its first attack, let out an even angrier roar, its crimson eyes fixed on Lex, who had fallen to the ground, its body surging with energy, poised to pounce again.

"Protect Mr. Luther!"

The bodyguards on the helicopter then realized what was happening and turned their guns in horror.

But when faced with an out-of-control superpowered "zombie," the bodyguards were still too slow to react.

With a loud thud, the nearby bodyguards were thrown backward.

The helicopter pilot was hit and let out a painful groan before instantly losing consciousness.

The out-of-control helicopter spun as it plummeted from the sky toward the ground.

The entire cabin instantly descended into chaos.

(End of this chapter)